Chapter 1
“Lady Catherine, His Grace has returned!”
Leonard, the Duke of Pembroke had barely stopped his horse in front of the manor when cries of excitement rang out to meet his ears. A flurry of activity followed his dismount and Leonard was left beaming at the elated household who came to greet him. He had been gone but a month yet the welcome was the same as if he had been off to the wars and absent for years. The duchy did miss him, regardless of how long or short a journey he had made and regardless of the reasons for his travels.
His sister, Catherine, appeared at the threshold while the servants attended to his trunks, her smile matching his own. No one longed for his safe return more than she, of that Leonard was certain.
“Leo!” she gasped, a gloved hand on her chest. “I am so pleased you are home and well!”
Leonard laughed, a booming, authoritative sound which reverberated through the tree-nestled property. He hurried to greet her. He snatched the riding gloves from his hand and tossed them to a nearby servant boy, along with a coin and a wink. The child’s eyes lit up and he whirled to his mother who stood nearby to show her. Leonard had already moved his attention back to Catherine. He had thought of her endlessly and was eager to hear of how the duchy fared in his absence. He had left so much behind, after all, a small feeling of guilt reminding him of such.
I cannot be faulted for going when I did. We all have managed in our own way.
“Of course I am well, dear sister. Have you ever known me to be unwell?”
Catherine’s face shadowed slightly as she recalled instances but as quickly as it had fallen, the umbra vanished. Leonard was grateful for such small favors. The last thing he wished to do was engage in an argument with her when the occasion was a happy one.
“How do you fare? Have you kept Mother well?” The question was not idle. Their household had been through a great deal in the past months and the Duke worried for his family. Thoughts of his mother and sister had weighed heavily on his mind, particularly of his mother. Her proximity to melancholy had been heart-wrenching and Leonard hoped for good news on that front.
“I will send for Mother and you can see for yourself,” Catherine said, reaching to link her arm through his. “She is tending to the roses, which seems to be a point of interest as of late. Oh, what a happy day. I do wish you would not stay away without corresponding for so long. It causes us to fret.”
Leonard accepted her arm and patted her hand reassuringly.
“You need not fret about me, my dear sister. I am here now and our father has raised a strong son. God would not let anything happen to me while I have you to care for.”
Catherine’s mouth formed a fine line and while she made no comment, Leonard had a fair idea what was on her mind.
If God was so just, how could He wrench our father from us before his time?
Leonard suspected there was more than that troubling his sister, also.
She does not understand why I feel the need to travel so excessively when my business is in the duchy.
It was a discussion he had shared with not only Catherine but his widowed mother, on several occasions. He did not wish to revisit the issue on that morning. His travels from Wales had been long and he yearned for little more than a bath and a glass of port.
“Your Grace, shall I send Jacob to fetch you a bath?” Beatrice asked, well aware of the Duke’s penchant to unwind following a journey. He turned toward the elderly servant and nodded gratefully.
“Indeed,” he replied. “I will greet the Duchess and then take it in my chambers.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Beatrice curtsied before fading into the dim corners of the house. The siblings continued toward the gardens, in search of their mother.
“How has the household fared in my absence?” Leonard asked. “Has mother been well?”
Catherine cast him a sidelong look but from where he stood, he could not be certain of what it was meant to express.
“She has improved much in her grief. The garden does appear to calm her a great deal and she no longer takes laudanum to sleep,” Catherine replied. “I daresay she is learning to cope without Father.”
Relief passed through Leonard at the remarks. The passing of his father a mere six months earlier had not struck his mother well. It was hardly a shock to anyone—his parents had been aptly suited for one another, the respect they shared unparalleled by any wed couple Leonard had known. The 4thDuke of Pembroke’s passing had left quite a hole in the household, his gregarious charm missed dearly throughout the halls of Brookside. Leonard had been equally as haunted by Aylmer Hervey’s passing as the ladies, although he had managed to keep his own anguish much quieter than his kin, as was expected of him. He was the Duke, after all, and it was his duty to remain strong in the face of upset. However, he did not fault his mother in the least for her outward displays of grief. Before he had left on his much-needed journey, he had been tentatively concerned about her wits.
“You will replace me one day, Leo,” his father oft told him, before the illness had claimed his fragile body. “You will fill this house with laughter and strength but to do that, you must always follow your heart and do not accept rejection. I have raised you to be firm, unwavering. That is what is required to be a respected duke.”
“I swear it,” Leonard vowed. “I will do you proud, Father.”
“You have always done me proud, my son.”
A pang of sadness touched Leonard’s chest but he brushed it away. It was the reason he had journeyed to Wales. He had wished to mourn in private and leave it behind before returning to his duties in Pembroke.
A splash of brilliant sunlight touched his green eyes as Catherine pushed open the double glass doors leading into the gardens at the rear of the property. Leonard blinked twice, his eyes adjusting to the brightness and Catherine tugged him along eagerly.
